And In the Darkened Underpass, I Thought, “Oh God My Chance Has Come At Last”

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I took a shower yesterday (rah rah basic hygiene) and I completely forgot to comb my hair. This is hair that now extends a good foot past my shoulder, catches in the car door, and hangs in my face. I even caught some in my armpit the other night, inexplicably clotheslining myself. I dunno. Don’t ask. I don’t know how I did it.

So I shouldn’t forget it’s there, is my point. Every so often my hand wanders up to sort of pet it and manipulate it into some kind of position resembling not a bad wig or perhaps a pot scrubber, but my hair is not having it. Then I curl it back up and throw an alligator clip in it and pretend it’s not happening. I saw a woman at Safeway today with a big, blonde, unkempt bun on top of her head with her sides and top all smooth and perfect looking, and the bun looking like something the neighbor’s dog had stolen for three or four days, worried over, and then dropped in the storm drain. Who is she trying to fool? I thought to myself, and then saw those stones of judgment hurling right back at me. Bun Twins. “Shut up, Brain, I have the flu still, mostly. Je suis fucking morose.” “Oh, yes, Body? We used to have standards,” brain replies.

It’s funny how you can go off the rails a little bit and not even realize it. Things I do now would just not have happened a few months ago. It’s important for you to know that my underwear is on inside out. I made note of this, and did not switch it. GOOD. Who says my fricking labia can’t have some interesting scenery? Why must the inside of my pants get the window seat? If this were a party, it would be stagnant. Inside of Pants? Meet Cotton Crotch. Labia? Meet fleur de lis pattern. I’m sure you’ll have loads to talk about.

In a lot of ways I feel like I just had a baby. Kind of basted in craziness with a melange of confusion and a deglazing of franticness. My eyebrows look GREAT. My house is filthy. I have watched every episode of The Office on hulu (whom I am now apparently being sponsored by! Invisible Paycheck!) but laundry piles up around my ears. My friend prods me to action with this writing project I am dragging my feet on, and she’s right and she means well. I just have to find that right mix to get me going and keep me running: I think it’s equal parts desperation and self-revulsion and love. It’s all in there. Run, asshole, run!

22 thoughts on “And In the Darkened Underpass, I Thought, “Oh God My Chance Has Come At Last””

  4. I am still struggling with my house. And by “house”, I mean “everything”. You know like in those dreams you have of your house burning down or falling apart and it really means…uh…your life? Yeah, that. I think it’s just the roller coaster ride and sooner or later you are on the upswing again.

    Glad you are feeling better!

  6. I hardly found out that you had left, and I already miss you. Please make contact or send cookies.

  7. *Touching message of caring, understanding and support.*
    Remember the “rebel base” and visit sometime, okay?

  8. U, Asshole. You make me laugh liek woah! I totally get the unkempt hair hastily put up to make oneself be in denial so they can go out and buy basic items.

  9. lol, MATY invasion. My worlds collide. Anyone who wants to can email me with the addy on this page! I am a so-so penpal but if you keep this page bookmarked you will know that I’m not dead.

  10. Get well soon! Reports of your death are being greatly exaggerated at Rebel Base.

    Wait.

    Maybe you should wait until someone posts that you have run off with [insert celebrity who would not make you gag, or lose a fistfight with Companion here] to Fiji to have scantily-clad third world tweens suck papaya juice off of your toes.

    Or that you are secretly plotting to catch Sarah Palin picking her ass, and are wearing a dark wig and shades and lurking in her shrubberies with a digicam and some Tricuits, a porta-Jane and lots of limoncello.

    DON’T DAI, SMITTAY! That would make even Happycat V V SADCAEKZ.

    A STRANGER. DON’T B 1.

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